What is so grand about this me that the universe should conserve it in recognizable abstraction, like a dead label, or an object? Where did this extremely crazy of ‘eternal life for me’ idea come from?

Cancer is what happens when a cell ‘reaches for eternality’. It becomes monstrous, and would (and usually does) sacrifice an entire living universe to feed its ever-growing hunger for ‘immortality’. If it could then leap from body to body… be certain it would… ripping the life out of everything in its path in favor of its own egregious conservation.

Please, understand the gifts of change and death.

The forms of immortality we partake in, directly, are far too astonishing to fit within the impoverished frameworks of our desires. How wise are those who, walking in beauty, are transformed from selves into beauty.